No one ever told me that hands become gnarly after too much time in the sun.
My hands are as gnarly as the bark on an old oak tree.
But, at least they’re sun-kissed – the color of a beige antique car.
My hands soar when a story strives to alight from my funny, surprising brain, a brain that is awash with jangled memories and silly jokes, serious worries and spurts of light-filled love. Continue reading
Teaching about writing is an oxymoron.
[Oxymoron – the use of two words that contradict each other, like ‘wise fool.’]
How can I, or anyone, teach another to write?
A rocky oxymoron.
Well, that’s the point. I don’t offer a creative writing class to teach how to write, but to point out the importance of using the right words – to name things correctly – when creating a story. Even more importantly, I offer small (writing) steps that each of us can use to help our pen move.
If the pen moves, we connect.
Brain, pen, soul, body, back to pen, brain, soul equals a story worth telling.
That’s my theory, although others may debunk it. Continue reading
Write a 5-minute story while sucking on an ice cube.
Early on this chilly March morning, I’m sitting in front of my computer with an ice cube in my mouth.
It’s 25 degrees, windy and bleak outside, and the heat hasn’t kicked in, but I’m moving the large cube, more like a rectangle now, from one side of my mouth to the other.
Yesterday I thought, “okay, time to do the ice exercise – this will be easy.” But yesterday it was a balmy 39 degrees and sunny. The buds on the trees looked hopeful, as if they truly believed they would have a chance to warm up, pop out, and live once again. Continue reading
Painting: Paul Cézanne, The Dream of the Poet (The Kiss of the Muse), 1860
I’m in fits and starts
A little bit off, and my cart’s
ahead of the donkey. Continue reading
I knew it would happen, sooner or later.
When my critique group finished the third draft of my (then) unpublished romantic suspense novel, The Right Wrong Man, each of them independently concluded their final review with a list of the actors who should play my characters in a movie.
“Guys,” I responded modestly. “I need to get this published first. Then let’s dream about Jennifer Lawrence for Meredith, and Channing Tatum for Parker.”
Gregory?
“No!” They all chimed in. “Channing should be Gregory!” I ignored them, dotted my “i’s” and wrote two more drafts before I hit “Ping.”
Amazon sold 10,000 copies by week 6.
On week 8, I received an e-mail from Julia Robert’s agent.
On week 9, Bradley Cooper phoned me directly.
The bidding war began.
On the first anniversary of my publication date, the movie was optioned, sold, and at my insistence, I had a role as 3rd screenwriter on set, which became larger as each day of shooting progressed.
Meredith?
(credit to:HRC/ WENN.com)
The chosen actress to play Meredith (and I can’t divulge that secret here), knocked on my trailer at 8:10 every morning. “Ms. Wight, the other writer says Meredith belches. Meredith would never belch. Please, please rewrite the rewritten script and fix it!”
I fixed.
Then the actor I hungered over, um, I mean, that Meredith hungered over, joined me for a glass of wine at the end of the day’s shooting. “We have a problem,” he stated in his famous deep growl. “The director is demanding I punch Carlos in the face and break his nose. You and I know that is NOT Parker’s style. Please, fix it!”
I fixed.
I taunted the producer, tweaked the direction, tamed the actors, and a year later, the movie THE RIGHT WRONG MAN was a hit.
And guess who was nominated for Best Screenwriter?
What?
Oh, yes, this is a fantasy. But you do know the definition of “fantasy,” don’t you?
That’s right: “The creative imagination.” Or, “unrestrained fancy.”
A writer should never be restrained, nor lack creativity OR imagination.
Because, my dear readers, as Einstein explained;
“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.”
Now, speaking of coming attractions, who would YOU choose to play Parker and Gregory?
Just so, you know, I’m prepared when that phone call comes in.
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” ― Lloyd Alexander
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